


you're my boo

by Magali_Dragon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bookstores, Dorks in Love, F/M, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Idiots in Love, Romantic Fluff, sequel to 'don't judge a book by its cover'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26780122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magali_Dragon/pseuds/Magali_Dragon
Summary: Jon has big plans for Dany after her annual Halloween bash, but first he has to pick the best costume to surprise her with-- which is going to be difficult as she's planning to surprise him too.sequel (sort of) todon't judge a book by its cover.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 74
Kudos: 418





	you're my boo

**Author's Note:**

> Dumping fics that I currently have finished as I steadily make progress towards my exile from Jonerys fandom for a bit of mental health break. Have fun with this Halloween treat!

* * *

There was nothing better than the smell of a brand-new book.

Those fresh pages, hot off the press, the crinkling sound as he flicked from cover to cover. He smiled, ducking his nose down to the spine, and inhaled, like perhaps a drug addict with their fix. The smell of the paper pulp, even the tangy chemical of the glue, and the plastic of the cover, it flooded through him, and calmed him. Like yes, a drug addict with their fix. He didn't lie about his love of the written word. Certainly wouldn't be shamed by it.

"Excuse me sir, did you just smell that book?"

He jumped in place, dropping the book onto the box he'd just recently opened. the heavy tome—the latest in his _A Tale of Snow and Flame_ series. Well, Aegon Summer's series— hitting with a dull 'thud.' A faint blush crept on his cheeks above his beard and he turned to confront the customer, who probably thought him mad, stumbling. "I was actually..."

And then he saw the _customer._

The smile already flirting on his lips, sheepish, exploded into a wide grin. "You're back!" He reached immediately for his girlfriend of the last three years, enveloping her tight in his arms. She jumped at him, the toes of her boots knocking his shins, and her arms wrapping around his shoulders, their lips finding each other immediately, the move practiced and comfortable. Almost instinctual, after seeing each other for the first time in so long.

It had only been a couple weeks— they'd been apart longer in the last three years—since Dany went down to Kings landing to work on a couple projects, but she always returned to the home she shared with him in Winterfell. They had made it their base, traveling out when necessary, even if he left the bookstore in the hands of Arya for a bit. Two weeks could feel like two years apart though when it came to Dany. She was such an integral part of his life, he couldn't think of how he had survived as long as he had without her.

Dany giggled, mumbling against his mouth. "I'm back. Got an earlier flight. I missed you so much."

"We talked every day." It didn't matter and she knew it. Talking, FaceTime, Skype...it wasn't the same as having her with him. He brushed a wayward curl absentmindedly from her forehead, kissing her again. She moaned softly, fingers toying with his curls. He separated a moment later, sighing. "Hmm, you surprised me."

"You do this often? Smelling books?"

"Just new ones."

She glanced over his shoulder to the books, squealing and bouncing, moving so fast by him she stepped on his foot, the sharp heel of her boot spearing into his big toe. He yelped, but she paid no mind, grabbing for one of the books. "It's out! Oh it's here! Oh please, please can I read it?"

"No!" It wasn't supposed to go on sale until tomorrow. He'd opened the box to start preparing the display, since it was almost closing time and he doubted anyone would come into the store this late. He wagged the book at her, her brow puckering, annoyed. "You know the rules, you don't get to read it until everyone else."

"Why did I come up with that rule?"

"I don't know, but it was your idea," he teased. She'd decided early in their relationship she would not take advantage of the fact that she was dating a famous author—famous in that no one knew who he was but her and an exceptionally small group of people—and read his books prior to the rest of the public. A fact she routinely bemoaned now that she realized what it meant, as he typed away on his typewriter, locking up his pages in a safe that only he had a key to. A key that she could pick up at any point and time of course, but she never did. Because she was good with her word that way.

She pouted, an adorable look on her, and he kissed her lower lip sticking out. "Fine," she grumbled. She twirled his hair around on his fingers, still holding on to him. She smiled; her violet eyes soft on his. "Do you know what day it is in a week?"

_How could I forget?_ It was a constant reminder, everywhere he looked, and Arya had convinced him to even put up a couple decorations around the bookstore. The Night King glaring at him each time he opened the door in the morning was the final straw, and he'd ripped some of them down. "Halloween," he grumbled.

"It's my _favorite_!"

"I know," he sighed. It was her favorite holiday. She got all into it and every single year she hosted a huge party at her estate on Dragonstone. Famous celebrities from television, film, and literature attended. Even reality stars managed to swing some invitations. It was partially famous because it was Daenerys Targaryen's party and she was fairly reclusive. It was also famous _because_ of her reclusiveness, which meant no paparazzi. Since you had to reach Dragonstone by ferry boat, the security was tight, and while people posted pictures of it online, that was all the public got. It had become something of a legend in Westeros society.

He'd avoided it the past few years because of the notoriety but didn't think he could do so any longer. They never really talked about it; he popped up for some of the major events, the Oscars and Emmys, but outside of those, he stayed away. He knew she didn't mind it at all, except for this particular one. It was her favorite holiday, her favorite party, and while she never specifically asked him to attend, he thought maybe she was gearing up to it.

Three years was a long time to avoid your girlfriend's famous Halloween party. "You know," she began, but Jon cut her off before she could gather the courage to ask. If that's what she was going to ask.

"I think I'll come this year."

The way her face positively lit up, eyes springing open, and mouth falling slightly, a smile instantly spreading across her lips, he knew that's what she was going to ask. And he was extra grateful he’d managed to cut her off at the pass, to save her from asking—no doubt she was nervous about it. "Really?" she squealed, bouncing on her toes, her silver braids swinging like a metronome behind her head.

He smiled sheepishly. "Aye, I think so. No one knows I'm Aegon Summer after all."

"No they don't," she agreed. She grinned, kissing him hard. He bent his knees just a bit, so they were eye to eye, arms tight on her small waist. "I love you. This is going to be so fun! We have to agree on costumes. We can go together, like a pair, maybe we can be..." A look crossed her face, violet eyes glazing over slightly .

_I know that look._ It was a look Jon wasn't sure he liked to see on his girlfriend's face. He winced. "Aye?"

She smirked. "I have an idea."

"I can see that."

"It's going to be a surprise."

Aye, he was afraid of that one. He nuzzled her nose, his turn to smirk. "Guess mine will have to be a surprise too." _What the seven hells Snow? You know nothing about this shit._

"Yay! I can't wait!" Dany jumped off the ground, easily wrapping her legs around his hips. He grabbed hold of her under her thighs, carrying her away from the books as she began to peck kisses along his jaw and neck, mumbling. "I love you; it's been _weeks._ "

Aye, it certainly had been weeks and he was surprised they’d managed to hold off this long on jumping each other. He glanced to the closed door, smirking. "I gotta' lock the door."

A horror-filled look crossed her face. "Jon! Not here!"

"What?" He looked around the bookstore; it wasn't like it was dirty. They'd honestly done it in a few more rather public locations. Including the bathroom at the Beverly Hills Hilton during the Golden Globes the previous year. That was _far_ more scandalous than perhaps the counter at his bookstore. "Why not?"

Dany ducked her head, whispering, gazing around furtively. "Not in front of the books!"

He threw his head back, laughing as she giggled with him. He carried her up the stairs to the office. "Well then, not in front of the books it is. Is the office alright?"

"Just so they don't see. We don't want to offend them."

"Something tells me _Sex and the Cities_ or _A Thin Line_ won't be offended," he said, referring to the two books that she occasionally read as guilty pleasures and tried to hide from him under her pillow.

"No, but _Little Women_ might be."

Jon kicked the door to the office closed behind him, while simultaneously stretching her out over the desk he'd thankfully cleared off earlier that evening. "Well, we can't offend Jo, Amy, Beth and...who was the other one?"

"Meg you heathen!"

"Oh well then."

Dany rubbed her mouth over his, grinning. "We should read _Dracula_ tonight before bed."

"How about I just suck on your neck instead?"

She hummed, as he sank his teeth into her shoulder, nipping the soft skin, her fingers playing with the front of his shirt, pushing the garment aside once she managed to get the buttons free. "Ah...that sounds much, much better."

* * *

It was absolutely overwhelming, the sheer enormity of the task before him. Jon had written bestsellers, he'd negotiated an incredibly lucrative contract with his girlfriend's production company for the rights to put his characters on television screens around Westeros...seven hells he'd managed to keep his identity a _secret_ in all that time from the prying masses who ate up his novels and would soon be salivating over the television show once Dany got her fingers on it.

He faced near starvation, death by hypothermia, and _gunshot_ wounds while assigned to the Wall during his stint in the military. His ex-girlfriend had almost _killed_ him, even. There were so many things in his life that could fill tomes, yet he never was overwhelmed in those situations.

Leave it to a costume shop to be the thing that took him down.

The costume shop itself was terrifying. Arya had dragged him straight from the townhouse he shared with Dany in King's Landing's Red Keep district through the narrow streets and avoiding the more family-oriented shops on Street of Silk, in favor for a tiny hole in the wall in the depths of Fleabottom. The area of King's Landing was famous for its rather...exotic shops, restaurants, clientele, and residents. It used to be the poorest neighborhood and had become a haven for artists and eccentrics. He had even contemplated living there, right out of the military, before Aemon took him under his wing and gave him the shop.

As Gendry, Arya's boyfriend, was born and raised in Fleabottom and called it home to not only his workshop, gallery, and condo, she was very familiar with the back alleys and secret alcoves of the neighborhood. Which was where she'd dragged him, claiming he would find inspiration and the "best costume ever!" in the strange stores and other _things_ that took up the tiny compact area.

"I found the _best_ shit here," Arya announced, climbing out of the car after wedging it in between two others. Cars honked their horns at them, but she ignored them. Jon glanced at her Jeep halfway on the curb and halfway hanging into the road, wondering how much would be missing when they returned. She stopped in front of a nondescript store, with a simple red door and a window filled with black and red draperies and candles, the sign only reading "M&K." "Ta da!"

He looked around, hands in his pockets. This was not what he had in mind. "Arya I just need a costume," he tried to explain. He sighed hard. "Why couldn't we have gone to that Halloween Emporium or whatever it was near the airport?"

"Because that shit is cheap and made in Moraq, none of it is quality."

"Well..."

"You want this to be the best surprise ever, right?"

Jon shifted on his feet, his worn black boots giving a little on the slick cobblestone, sliding him a bit from the door. His feet didn't even want to be there. He sighed, shrugging. "I mean...I do, yeah." He had plans. _Big plans._

The ring was burning a hole in his pocket and had been for some time.

This seemed as good a time as any.

Dany's favorite holiday, at her favorite event of the year, at her Dragonstone estate—which was her favorite place in the world, even if she said she loved their home in the North—it was like it was all leading up to this moment. Plus, she wouldn't expect it at all. Not that she really was expecting it—he'd questioned her best friend Missandei who said that Dany hadn't mentioned anything about expecting him to propose or wondering why he'd taken so damn long.

"That's me wondering though," she'd said, glaring at him with her golden-brown eyes. "Because you have been taking forever. Just ask her!"

He dug his fingers into his pocket; he never went anywhere without it now, too scared that something might happen to it. The ring was like fire, heating his palm. He frowned at the storefront. "Arya, I don't know...maybe I'll just get something online."

"Jon, come _on_!"

He grunted when she yanked his arm, almost pulling it from the socket. They entered the store, smoky incense flooding his nostrils and burning his eyes. It was also bloody _hot._ Kings Landing was already hot enough and humid, the autumn doing nothing to make it better but _maybe_ lowering the temperature just a tad as the winds increased off the Blackwater Bay from the Narrow Sea.

"Good afternoon."

A soft, heavily accented, disembodied voice called out to them. He jerked his head towards where beads pushed by from an entryway to the side of the main door. Arya smiled, still clutching his arm. "Hello," she greeted.

The woman who spoke was short, with dark hair, blood red dress with long bell sleeves, and a gold and ruby choker pulsing on her neck like a heartbeat. Terrifying, he thought, edging backwards and knocking into a mannequin with a similar motif. "Hello," the woman said. She smiled enigmatically. "My name is Kinvara, welcome to M&K's, what can I help you find this lovely fiery afternoon?"

"Just browsing," Arya said. She grinned. "Do you have anything that perhaps an _assassin_ might wear?"

"What?" he blurted. "I don't want to be an assassin!"

"No but I do," she assured him. She turned her curious gray eyes back to Kinvara, who was still smiling. "We’re going to a really fancy Halloween party and we need some really good costumes. I got some cool stuff here before, what do you suggest?"

"Assassins look like no one," Kinvara said. She smiled again. "In which case, you are already one."

_Get me out of here_ , Jon thought, trying to move towards the door, but Arya pushed him further into the stuffy little shop. He tried not to breathe the incense too deep; his allergies were going to start acting up and last thing he wanted was to try to work in red eyes and stuffy nose into his costume. "Come on Arya, I don't even know what I’m going to be for this thing."

"Well maybe inspiration will strike, maybe even for your next book. Help me find something" Arya plucked a black robe from a rack, spinning it around to face her, smirking. "What about this?"

He sighed. "Looks like something a Maester would wear."

"You could put on your old Night's Watch uniform, just go as one of them."

"That's not a costume." He found himself trailing after her like a puppy, deeper and deeper into this strange place. He kept expecting they might pop out the other side somewhere in Essos. The vibe he was getting from Kinvara reminded him briefly of some research he'd done for one of his novels, on the Temple of the Lord of Light. Same type of choker and everything. Very strange.

Arya sighed, studying an outfit that looked like something a cannals rat would wear in Braavos like a thousand years ago. She bypassed another gown, which Jon thought he saw on a painting of an old Lannister woman out in Casterly Rock. Kind of looked like Cersei, he thought, idly plucking through a couple of things that he suspected Dany might actually like. Even one that looked like something she’d worn in her show, when she was Queen Naena. He sighed, continuing to follow Arya through the store, shrugging and acknowledging the items she pulled out to look at.

He frowned at a chainmail type garment she tugged out. “I think that might be too much for you,” he advised.

“Not for me, for Gendry. We’re going as assassins together.”

“Not very stealthy, wearing that.”

“True.” She sighed, picking up a wig and dropping it over her hair; long and red. “Look, I’m Sansa!” She sneered, wagging her finger at him, her voice an uncanny mimic of her older sister. “The North does not kneel to a Southern ruler! I am the Queen in the North!”

He laughed, grabbing a wig and dropping it on his head. It was platinum blonde, long tendrils of hair sticking around his face. “Who am I?” he teased. He thought it kind of looked like Dany’s hair. _There’s an idea._ He rolled his eyes. “I could go as Daenerys.”

Arya chuckled, taking another wig, this one a different shade of red. She dropped it on her head and then spun around, glaring at him. “You know nothin’ Jon Snow!”

A horrified chill crept through him and he dared say his balls crept up closer to his body for warmth. He shuddered. “Gods, you sound just like Ygritte.”

“What’s that insane bitch up to now?”

“Terrorizing someone new above the Wall, most likely.”

“You still have that restraining order on her?”

He nodded, wincing, hoping that she wasn’t tempting the gods by mentioning his ex-girlfriend. The few times he’d popped up on Westerosi blogs and in the papers on Dany’s arm or even when paparazzi found them out and about, he’d been glad that his ex-girlfriend had decided to stay away. It would be just like her to try to get attention and turn focus on herself. He took off the blonde wing, shaking it back out and moving to set it atop the mannequin he’d pulled it from, when he caught sight of Arya’s suspicious look. He was a little frightened when she looked like that. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just…I think I have an idea.”

“Oh?”

Arya grabbed the wig, thrusting it against his chest, grinning. “Oh yes. The most _perfect_ costume. You just might have to be a little drunk for it.”

He wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. “ _And though she be but little, she is fierce_ ,” he muttered. _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , if Arya had bothered to pay attention in class.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing. What are you thinking? Before I change my mind.”

Arya whipped out a long white robe-like dress, holding it aloft, beaming. “Oh. It’s going to be _amazing_.”

Jon sincerely doubted that.

* * *

“I need another drink.”

“You’ve had three shots,” Gendry reminded him, like he didn’t already know, feeling the whiskey swish around his stomach. He pushed him towards the entrance to Dragonstone, which was lined with lit pumpkins, carved in a variety of faces, some of them even with intricate designs of dragons on them. The stone dragon pillars at the entrance to the winding path up to the estate were lit up, stone mouths and eyes of the massive dragon heads at their base lit up from within, like they were going to set you on fire as you walked by.

It was rather magical, Jon thought, taking in the theatrics. He’d been there at Dany’s side, listening to her ordering, planning, and working with Missandei on having the best party ever, one no one would forget. Even a haunted house in one of the guest homes she had in the back of the estate for peoples’ kids, who of course were invited. The estate itself was rather creepy, an old gothic-like Victorian manor with turrets and dragons carved out and displayed inside and around the property, courtesy of her mad father who was rather obsessed with the family’s legacy.

He glanced around at the decorations she’d done to the front; skeletons in the windows, spooky lights, orange and black and red and purple. He closed his eyes, shaking his head hard; the door was open, people coming and going. It was _packed._

“Come on,” he announced, walking up a couple of the steps to the main door. “Let's get this over with. I cannot believe you talked me into it."

If he lay the blame on Arya, Jon thought maybe he could die without shame. He was very secure in his masculinity and credited his mother to that aspect of his personality. Lyanna Stark may have wanted a daughter, but she got a son, and in her mind it really didn't matter.

So wearing what he was wearing now, as semi-serious and semi-gag gift type of surprise for his Halloween-obsessed actor girlfriend, didn't bother him in the sense that he feared what men would think if they saw him. It was more what Dany would think. He hoped she'd find it funny. He wondered also if he would stand out a bit more than he cared to in these types of events, especially with all the famous people around. He never did well when it came to Dany's colleagues. Always said the wrong thing and never seemed to know what they were talking about.

Gendry and Arya pushed his shoulders, up into the foyer. "It will be hilarious, she's going to _love_ it!" Arya squealed, letting go of him to smack her hands to her cheeks, stunned at the decor. "Oh my gods. This place is _so bloody cool!_ "

It was really cool. Dany had exacerbated the already creepy factor of the stone dragons carved into the walls with candles, low lighting, creepy music, drapes of crimson and black silk. There were people _everywhere_. In the main room all the furniture had been cleared out to make room for people to mill about, the massive dragon-mouth fireplace roaring with flames that flickered like the dragon was going to lurch out and set them all on fire.

It was also kitschy, little ghost and pumpkin lights strewn around, cardboard cutouts of green-faced witches, cobwebs, skeletons...he glanced at the passing trays of food with carrots that looked like fingers and something that appeared to be an eyeball. The drink of choice was something blood-red in a martini glass.

"Where is she? "Jon wondered. He was starting to get some stares.

One of Dany's costars from her old show _The Steel Throne_ appeared at his side, gaping at him. Jon had plenty reason to dislike Khal Drogo, mainly because Dany had had an affair with him the first year of her show and subsequently dumped him when he cheated on her with the makeup artist. He didn’t need to add more to the list, but of course Drogo would do and say something now to encourage further hatred. "What are you wearing?" Drogo laughed, his accent thick and heavy. He chuffed; he was wearing practically nothing but a loincloth and belt of gold discs, his black hair in a long ponytail and heavy eyeliner.

Jon wrinkled his nose at Drogo. "At least I'm wearing something. Where's Dany?"

"Little _khaleesi_ is busy."

He pushed by Drogo, annoyed that he waws there, but he knew the rules. Dany was beloved in Hollywood, partly because she could still work with people she absolutely hated. She had her own ways of getting back at them. He needed another drink. He grabbed one of the blood-red things, draining it. "Fuck!" he gasped. He stared at the empty glass. "What's in this?"

"Snips and snails and puppy dog tails," a voice droned behind him.

He turned; Gendry and Arya had abandoned him. He thought he could hear Arya's shrieks in the next room, gods only knew what she was getting into. He stared down at Tyrion Lannister, Dany's manager, who was wearing something that made him look like a lion of sorts. "What are you supposed to be?" he asked.

"Gods knows, she told me to wear a costume, I grabbed this at the store on the way over." Tyrion laughed at him, nodding towards his. "Very, very clever Jon Snow. Especially in light of what your beloved has chosen as her costume this evening."

His stomach flipped. "Oh?"

"Hmm, I would say you both are made for each other."

He frowned, unsure what that meant. People were talking, no doubt. He sighed. "Where is she?"

"Holding court in the next room, doing her hostess duties, but I think she's ready to be done." The irony of Dany and her parties was she flitted about like a social butterfly and then disappeared. She usually left to go sleep early and let everyone just think she was still there, hiding somewhere.

He pushed by Tyrion, who was still laughing, and calling out that he must have lost a bet or something. He ended up in one of the other rooms, scanning the tops of the crowds; the celebrity set really had a way of going all out. He was sure some of the costumes there that evening cost more than his house. Meanwhile he'd gotten his in a creepy thrift shop he was pretty sure was run by witches.

"Arya"!

Dany's voice called out through the blasting music, talk, and laughs. He thought he saw Arya in her assassin costume, joined by Gendry, and pushed towards them. Arya was facing him, speaking to someone wearing what appeared to be a black shaggy rug of some sort. Their hair was black and curly, clearly a wig, judging from how shiny the hair looked in the bright white strobe light that passed overhead every few minutes. The person was waving their hands, clad in thick black gloves. They looked like they would be super-hot, he thought, approaching them.

He would just have to interrupt Arya and Gendry's newfound friendship with this person, when Arya let out a loud whoop, pointing at him, the sound and sudden gesture causing many to turn to look at the commotion. "And here he is! The man of the moment, Jon Snow!"

_I will murder you_ , he vowed, glaring at his cousin.

The person in the black shaggy costume-- were they supposed to be a bear?-- whipped around and Jon's eyes popped out of his skull at the sight.

"Oh my gods!" they shouted at the same time, pointing at each other.

Dany screamed, throwing the drink in her hand aside and jumped so high in the air she might have gone airborne. _How, that costume looks like it weighs a thousand pounds_. He didn't even realize that she was laughing at his costume and almost crying, because he was busy trying to figure out just how exactly she had come up with the one she was wearing. "You're Rae Frost!" he exclaimed. He was about to shout _my_ Rae Frost, but he wasn’t that drunk, and remembered he was an anonymous author. He couldn’t believe it. His character! She dressed up as _his_ book character!

"The Bastard of the Icefell!" she shouted, laughing and diving at him, her arms going around his neck and legs around his waist. She giggled, the large plastic sword she wore hitting him in the face. He pushed it aside, taking a quick glance and saw that aye, it was a cheap knockoff of Longtalon. She rubbed her mouth over his, giggling some more. She tasted like the red drink he'd struggled down. "My king."

"You're drunk," he laughed.

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Maybe I am. Yes, I am Rae Frost and _Jon_!" She squealed again, hitting his shoulder with her thick fluffy gloves. His lip started to itch from where she'd kissed it; her fake black beard resembled something that came from a shower drain and was probably made for less than that. She kicked her heels against his arse cheeks, squeezing her little body around him in a way that she probably would not have done if she were 100 percent sober. "And look at you!" She smiled again; lavender eyes dopey. "My king."

"Your queen," he teased. He felt a lot better about his costume now, actually finding it hilarious. He pushed his nose to hers, their lips colliding in a messy kiss. "Queen Naena."

"Naena deserved better! Justice for Naena!" Dany yelled, her arm locking around his neck, falling off him to spin around, gathering a crowd of her guests to shout it out. he didn't want her to dwell too long on the sad ending of her beloved Naena, so he kissed her, holding her tight around her waist—or what of it he could get, as her costume was very bulky.

She tugged at his platinum wig, which he'd haphazardly dropped over his head, only pulling his curls back into a messy bun at the name of his neck. They sprang out from the sides. He adjusted it, teasing. "Hey, watch the hair, it makes the whole costume."

"I think these do actually." She plucked at the white silk dress he wore, reminiscent of one of her earlier season costumes, checking out the fake plastic tits he'd somehow let Arya convince him to add to the ensemble. In lieu of the heeled boots her character preferred to wear, he just had on jeans and his usual Chelsea boots. She snorted. "Thinking a bit of yourself, eh?"

"Nothing can compare to yours."

She nodded. "No, nothing can compare to them, that is true." She giggled again. "Gods damnit Jon, I love you. You dressed as Naena for me!" Her eyes began to shine. She hiccupped, and not from drinking. “You know what she means to me and you did this, and I love you _so_ much!”

_Aw seven hells_.

He kissed away her tears, ignoring the other guests. “I love you too, don’t cry.”

“You didn’t even shave your beard. You look so stupid.”

He stuck his lower lip out, which she nipped playfully; her beard was extremely itchy. “As do you, but you’re definitely cuter than Rae Frost.”

“We need to take pictures!” Dany flung her arms out again; he was glad he was holding her as close as he was, otherwise, she’d have fallen right onto the floor. She looked around, shouting. “Happy Halloween!”

He spun her around. “You are so drunk.”

“You need to be drunk too with me! Someone get me a glass of Witch’s Brew!”

“On it,” Arya said, pushing a glass of the red stuff to him. She snorted. “Drink up Jon.”

_Might as well_ , he thought, swallowing back the horrible concoction. He coughed, dropping the plastic glass to grab Dany again as she fell back slightly. He hoisted her higher up on him, the effects of the drink already causing his vision to blur on the edges. He thought he heard someone say that there was a real ghost in the haunted house, which forced him to focus on Dany. “A ghost? What’d you get for that?”

“Ghost. It’s just Ghost.”

“Aye, that’s what I said.”

“No,” she laughed, dropping back to the floor. She kept her arms around him, beaming. “Ghost, Ghost. _Our_ Ghost.”

“Aw,” he exclaimed, realizing she meant his beloved wolf. He looked around, wondering what the beast was up to. He didn’t usually like crowds. “Did you dress him up?” He sobered a bit, tripping after her. “He doesn’t like that. Arya learned the hard way last year.”

“I remember.” That had been a disaster. Arya thought it would be funny to put Ghost in a Red Riding Hood hat. It ended up as shreds all over the house, terrorizing Robb’s children who thought something had been murdered. He’d never heard the end of it from Robb’s wife Margaery.

They tripped through to the main room, Tyrion already orchestrating photos, not one to miss an opportunity to publicize his favorite client. He stood dutifully with her, grateful for the drink, otherwise he’d never have been able to last this long. They were silly, goofy, and he could only see her, in her silly black fur cape, wig and beard, and brandishing the plastic sword. At one point they posed, with her pretending to drive it into him, before she started crying, as memories of Naena’s onscreen death got to her. He made her feel better by opening up the white dress, so she could pretend to feel up her own chest, which Arya snapped instantly.

More Witch’s Brew, a terrifying trek through her ‘haunted’ house, and even being frightened of Ghost, and Jon was pretty sure that he had fulfilled his boyfriendly duties for the evening. He thought he had something to do later that evening but couldn’t remember.

“I love you,” Dany slurred, as they stumbled together through the emptying mansion, at some point around one in the morning, people beginning to leave. She pushed him towards the staircase. She giggled, putting her hands on the fake tits, squeezing. “I love your tits.”

“I love yours too.” He tried to feel hers underneath the black cape, huffing frustratedly. “Where _are_ they? How did they fuck under all this stuff?”

“I’m sure it was difficult.” She lifted her brows, putting on an overemphasized rough Northern accent. “Take me to bed _Jon Snow_ ”. She scowled, grumbling. “So grumpy.”

He snorted. “Want to see my dragons?” he teased.

“Oh yes.”

* * *

It was a testament to how badly he wanted to get laid that sobered him up, just long enough to rip off the silly platinum wig, sending it flying in the general direction of the door, while also keeping his mouth on Dany’s, both of them giggling through the kisses. They were _so_ drunk. He hoped he’d remember it. He leaned down to his jeans, to start unbuckling while Dany struggled with getting off the belt that held most of her armor on, his phone buzzing. He stumbled, falling backwards against the giant four-poster bed, using one of the posts to help him stand up as he glanced at the phone. “Huh.”

“What? _Whoops!_ ” Dany fell sideways, laughing on the floor, holding her feet up. “Take off my boots.”

He pulled off one of the boots with one hand while he looked at his phone, laughing. “I think we’re a…what are they called? Moons?”

“A moon?”

“Internet thing.”

“A meme you geriatric!” She grabbed the phone. “Lemme see!”

Jon didn’t pay attention; Arya had sent him a text of an article that had already made it out there, thanks to Tyrion, of Daenerys Targaryen’s annual Halloween bash, where she and her reclusive boyfriend had dressed as favorite fantasy characters—while also generally “packing on the PDA” with a bunch of other stupid things Tyrion liked to throw in to keep people satisfied until the next time Dany appeared on a magazine cover or in a new movie or TV show. He laughed as he fell onto the bed, scrambling backwards as Dany advanced on him.

The phone ended up somewhere on the floor with the wigs, her boots, and Longtalon. Also most of her costume. She straddled his hips, laughing and fumbling with his belt. He reached up for the back of her neck, bringing her mouth to his, the world spinning around him, but she was the clearest. Somewhere he heard the spooky ghostly music still coming from a speaker somewhere and looked up at the canopy of the bed, seeing that she had scattered purple little twinkle lights with orange pumpkin lights. A skeleton hung from one of the posts.

He thought of a quote, as she yanked at the laces that kept the silly plastic tits on his chest. “ _"He'll come here because I have the most sincere pumpkin patch and he respects sincerity._ ”

Dany threw the fake tits onto the floor and paused, hands on his abdomen. She frowned. “Did you just quote _The Great Pumpkin_?”

“Maybe.”

She lifted her brows, smirking. “Then I clearly am not doing a good enough job of seducing you.”

“Might be the beard.”

It went by way of the wig. She shrieked as he topped her backwards onto the bed, blowing kisses onto her neck and along her chest, revealing itself to him as he pushed aside the black shirt she wore under the fake armor. She grabbed his face, murmuring. “ _"A person should always choose a costume which is in direct contrast to her own personality."_

He glanced down at the Northern costume she wore. “I cannot think of anything that is in direct a contrast as this to you,” he said, grinning.

She nuzzled his nose, scrunching hers up. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He wondered why he thought it was probably not good that she just threw his jeans onto the floor as she yanked them off; there was something in there he needed to remember, but he couldn’t possibly, as she kissed him, the room disappearing around them as they moaned softly into each other, drunk on more than just the Witch’s Brew.

It probably wasn’t the best sex they’d ever had; they were too giggly and laughing and at one point he rolled over onto her fake beard and screamed, jumping up thinking it was something alive in the bed with them, while Dany folded up on herself wheezing with laughter—until he pinned her back down into the pillows. Eventually they ended up curled against each other, underneath her crimson sheets, only the strange twinkling purple and orange lights above them for light.

She sighed, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder. “That was fun.”

“Hmm, it was.” He reached over to the nightstand, flicking on one of the old lantern-like lamps she had there; Dragonstone was really something out of another time. He frowned when the light went strangely red. She’d covered them with red scarves. It reminded him of the creepy shop in Fleabottom. He shrugged and settled back into the pillows, sighing happily.

Fingers dragging up and down her bare spine, he was dozing off when it hit him. _The ring!_ He bolted upright, knocking her to the side. “Fuck!”

“What? What’s wrong?” Dany sat up too, hair askew. Partially from his fingers and partially because she still had pins and braids scattered throughout from the wig. She rubbed at her face, waking up. “You alright?”

It had been in his pocket for _weeks_ and one silly stupid night and he might have lost it. Or forgotten it. He tripped on their costumes, fumbling among the clothing. He grabbed the Rae Frost wig, scowling at it. “Seven hells…where is it?”

“Jon?”

“Uh…hang on.” He grabbed hold of the white dress from his costume, pulling it on and retracing his steps, going into the corridor and towards the stairs. _No! He lost it!_ Panic was starting to set in. He rushed back to the room, still looking among the costumes. Dany had wrapped the red sheet around herself, climbing out of the bed, concern etched in her features. He didn’t want to tell her, but he was _freaking out._

The door nosed open, creaking. He fell onto his arse, startled and Dany looked over laughing. “Hey Ghost. Did you have fun tonight? What’s that you got?”

Ghost wandered in, what appeared to be a lion’s mane hanging around his neck. Probably Arya’s idea of a joke. He was holding a small black and red plastic egg in his mouth. He gnawed on it and then spat it out onto the floor, sitting back on his haunches. The judgmental look he shot Jon had him abashed, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Thanks Ghost,” he mumbled, scooping up the plastic egg. He clutched it tight in his hands, knowing it was dumb. It had been in his pocket all evening. He wasn’t sure how it came out but thank gods for his wolf.

Dany looked down at him, pointing. “What’s that?”

“Uh…” He blinked, on his knees on the floor, wearing a dumb costume dress and an even dumber look on his face. He flushed. “Um…so I…I wanted to do this but…but there wasn’t a good time then I thought…well…”

She reached for his face, touching his cheek. “Your face is all red.”

It was also itching something fierce. He scrubbed at it. “I think I’m allergic to your fake beard.”

“Shit Jon, we should put something on it.”

“No, not yet.” He grabbed her hand, tugging her back to the front of him. He had to do this now, before he lost his nerve. He was glad he still had a little bit of the Witch’s Brew coursing through him for extra support. He hesitated and then lifted up the dragon egg. “Um…I have a Halloween surprise for you.”

The vibrant purple in her eyes lit further. “Yeah?”

“Um…yes.” He chewed his bottom lip a second and laughed. “Erm…what are the magic Halloween words?”

Dany laughed, touching his hair, her other hand still holding the red sheet to her chest. He didn’t think she’d looked prettier, wild silver hair and bright eyes. Her face flushed pink and her smile wide. Maybe when he first laid eyes on her, in the cramped bookcases up North. _Gods he loved her so much._ “Halloween words?”

“Aye,” he teased. He was getting bolder, still holding the egg. “Not until I get the words.”

She threw her head back, laughing. “Trick or treat?”

He pushed the egg into her hands, whispering, eyes locked on hers. “Open.”

The smile on her face dropped a little, confused. She tucked the sheet under her arm and chuckled, quizzical. She pushed open the dragon egg; he’d found it in the shop with the rest of the costume. It seemed appropriate. The top fell off out of her hands, revealing what was contained inside. Her smile immediately fell, eyes expanding to saucers. “Oh fuck.” She took the ring, holding it gingerly between her index finger and thumb, gaping. She shook her head, warning. “Jon Snow if this is a trick…”

“It’s not,” he said. He grinned; he was glad he was already on his knees. He propped the one up and shrugged. Ghost stood next to him, moral support. “Marry me?”

Dany shrieked, jumping up and down, nodding. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

“Oh thank gods.” He sprang to his feet, snatching the ring from her and eagerly pushed it onto her left hand, trembling in his. He swept her up into his arms, spinning her around. They looked a sight; slightly hungover and maybe a little drunk, him in a costume and she in her sheet, with Ghost downright rolling his eyes at them both.

She kissed him, hands on his face, mumbling. “ _Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble._ ”

He smirked, continuing the famous quote. “ _Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf._ ”

“ _By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes, _”__ she ended _ _.__ She raked her fingers through his hair; the cool band of the ring on her hand pressed into his heated skin. __“ _Macbeth_ ”__

__“__ Act Four…scene one.”

She beamed. “Very good Jon Snow. I think we’ll make a Halloween lover of you yet.”

“Or at least a lover of the Bard,” he laughed.

“You’re going to marry an actor. You better love the Bard.”

“You’ll have to teach me some more.”

She wiggled her brows, lowering her lips to his once more. “I have the rest of our lives to do so. I love you Jon Snow.”

“I love you Daenerys Targaryen.” He carried her back to the bed, setting her gently among the pillows, sighing happily. He kissed her gently again, whispering. “Thank you for coming into my bookstore.”

She lovingly stroked his face, breathing back. “Thank you for chasing me out of it.”

They laughed, embracing, and rolled over, shrieking in unison as they landed on the damn wig again, courtesy of Ghost, who jumped up onto the bed with them, shaking it furiously.


End file.
